Static On the Radio
by chococsi
Summary: A collection of FlackLindsay fics. Each fic is based on a oneword prompt from a prompt table over at lj.
1. 84: He

She was scared. Danny could see it in her eyes and the way she walked down the hall towards the doors where Stella had entered moments before. Hell, he was scared too, but it wasn't like he could do anything for his best friend now.

It wasn't like he was sleeping with him, either.

He used to think that there might actually be something between himself and Lindsay, what with all the flirting she was doing with him at work and all. Okay, so maybe she wasn't the one initiating the flirting, but she was cute and if she was willing . . .

To what? To jump into bed with him instead of Flack? _Dangerous road to go down, buddy._

It wasn't like he had meant to discover their little "thing." They can blame that on the guy who didn't tint the windows of Flack's backseat properly. And the guy who put the night vision goggles in the A/V lab to tempt him into finding out who was fooling around in the parking garage that night (the fact that he had to go all the way up to the lab and then all the way back down notwithstanding).

So they were fucking. Banging each other. Doing it. Shagging. Big f-ing deal. He didn't care about that. It obviously was meaningless. Why else would they keep it a secret?

Lindsay reached the doors first and gently pushed them open, almost hesitant to actually go in. But she did, with Danny right behind her. He started to move to where Hawkes stood talking with Mac and Stella but noticed her cautiously walking towards the window of Flack's room. This seemed strange to the native New Yorker, so he turned slightly and followed her path.

Unsettling and seemingly crazy thought it was, his friends' relationship intrigued him. Over the years that he had known Flack, he had seen him chat girls up in bars and flirt shamelessly with the young lab techs who gossiped afterwards about how his eyes "seemed to gaze right through to their souls."

Right through their shirts was probably more like it.

The younger detective was a stand-up guy, a great cop, and an even more amazing friend. But he definitely seemed to be a one-night stand kind of guy, one with no commitments or attachments to anyone. He didn't think he had ever seen him with a steady girlfriend _or_ lover.

Yet there he was, going out (or staying in, as sometimes was the case) with Lindsay whenever they both had some free time. And no, he was not spying on them . . . he just happened to be in the same places as them . . . all of the time.

Somewhere in the back of his mind it registered that Stella was telling Hawkes that there was room for "cautious optimism." His focus, however, was on the country girl standing next to him.

Danny watched her carefully, noticing a few things about her like the trained CSI that he was. One of her hands was resting lightly at her side, clenched into a tense fist. The other was shaking slightly as she moved it as if to place it on the glass, then decided against it. Her shoulders were hunched over in a sort of defensive stance as if she was guarding against something. _But what?_

And then he saw her eyes.

Then he saw the depth of her worry. He saw her hope, her reluctance to let go. He saw her fear and her pain.

He saw that she loved him. And from the way that she was gazing at his prone figure, Danny figured that Flack had told her as much himself.

If Flack never woke up, he was going to kill him.

He turned to the others and watched Hawkes leave the room. Glancing back at his partner – no, his _friend_ – he realized right then and there that she needed to get out of there. Fast.

"You still want that ride?" he asked her quietly, trying as hard as he could to convey another message with his eyes. A message that said he understood and was just trying to help.

Apparently she got it, because a few seconds she schooled her face into a calm and seemingly unaffected expression and murmured her consent. Spinning around, she told Mac goodbye and moved through the swinging doors. It barely registered with Danny that he was asking his boss to call if anything changed. His entire attention was on the woman in front of him, up until they exited the hospital and were in his car.

Up until the point when she broke down into painful sobs and he pulled her into his arms.

Flack and Lindsay had both been there for him when he needed a friend most.

He could be a friend now.


	2. 85: She

_This is sort of a companion piece to the first story, but all the stories will be related so it doesn't really make a difference what order you read them in. _

_#85: "She"_

* * *

He was watching her. She could feel his eyes in her back as she walked in the direction Stella and Hawkes had taken before them. She was nervous as hell, and she could tell that he was too. But it wasn't like there was anything either of them could do.

It wasn't like this was a screwed-up fairy tale where just because they had been sleeping together she could walk in there, kiss him, and then he would wake up.

Everyone thought that there was something between her and Danny. He flirted with her at crime scenes and in the lab, asked her out a couple of times, and had that irritatingly cute nickname for her. Okay, so maybe she had flirted back, had invited him out for drinks (twice), and had finally just let him keep calling her _Montana_.

She preferred Don's nickname for her anyways.

It was kind of obvious that Danny knew about . . ._them_. She knew that someone had been watching them that one night in the garage when she couldn't wait till they got back to his place. And she was sure she had seen him following them some of the times they went out. She didn't really care if he knew, as long as he didn't say anything to anyone else (which he hadn't – yet). Things between her and the cobalt-eyed detective were starting to get serious and neither of them wanted others interfering at this point.

* * *

Lindsay reached the doors first and gently pushed them open, almost hesitant to actually go in. But she did, with Danny right behind her. She spotted Mac and Stella off to the side speaking with Hawkes, but she moved immediately to the other side to see him. It barely registered with her that Danny had followed her and was standing next to her.

* * *

Don wasn't usually the kind of guy to commit to anyone or anything, other than his job or his friends (both of which he was extremely loyal to). He had told her as much that first night they had hung out together (St. Patrick's Day) in that random bar (you could get green beer in any old place). Apparently he hadn't had a steady girlfriend or lover since his second year of high school. And, surprisingly, she was just fine with that.

It had started out as a drunken fuck a few days before the case with the water tower. In the morning, they had both agreed to not talk about what had happened and to just continue being friends. It had worked (though time alone was a bit tense) – for a while.

Don had come to Lindsay after Danny had pushed him away when the whole thing with Louie came to light. They had spent the whole night together – just talking – and in the morning, they had decided to give going out (platonically at first) a shot.

He had her pinned to the inside of his door before the night was over.

* * *

One of her hands was clenching in frustration while the other almost reached out to touch the cool glass of the window. She pulled it back at the last second though. Her shoulders hurt from hunching in an unconscious move of self-protection, as if she were guarding her heart.

And she knew exactly what she was guarding it against.

* * *

Lindsay had never told a man that she loved him. Always afraid of letting herself get too close to someone and then being hurt, she pushed them away if they ever said those three little words. But then Donald Flack with a Jr. came along and changed everything.

Lying in bed together early that previous morning, she had felt comfortable and relaxed. She had felt _safe_. Don had flipped her over on her back and climbed on top of her, leaning down to whisper in her ear.

_"I love you," he told her determinedly. "It's okay if you're not ready to say it back, but I needed to tell you."_

Damn him. Damn him for being so damn perfect and understanding. Damn him for knowing just how to make her heart turn to goo. Damn his cell phone for ringing before she had a chance to reply.

And then he had to go and get himself blown up.

If he never woke up, she was going to kill him.

* * *

Beside her, Danny turned to watch Hawkes exit yet still kept his eyes trained on her. "You still want that ride?" he asked her quietly when she turned to look at him.

She really had no idea what "ride" he was talking about and was about to ask him what he meant when their eyes connected. There was a message there, a message that said he understood and was just trying to help.

Apparently she was easier to read than she thought. She carefully schooled her expression into one of calm and somewhat indifference, turning to bid Mac goodbye as some sort of stability in her mind. Work, her boss – those were constant for the moment, and she needed any sort of anchor she could get.

It barely registered with her that Danny was asking Mac to call if anything changed. Her entire focus was on keeping it together until they exited the hospital and were in his car.

Until she lost it, sitting in the passenger seat she had sat in maybe a hundred times before, and he pulled her over the center console into his arms.

* * *

Lindsay had been there for Danny and Don when they had needed a friend.

She needed a friend now.

* * *

_A/N: Just so you know, there will (hopefully) be 98 more. Feedback helps them come faster :D. Leave a review, please . . . if you want to, that is. :)_


	3. 89: Work

(89) Work

_You're sneezing all over my crime scene, Flack._

He had walked away from the scene a few minutes beforehand when the sneezes had started coming harder and faster. His eyes were watering and itching like hell, and he had run out of clean tissues and had to start using his sleeve.

How embarrassing. And he had never had a reaction like this before. _Well, that was one big cat…_

"Detective?" a soft, yet assertive, voice broke through the haze surrounding his head. Standing fully upright, he did his best to take on an authoritative expression as he looked the stranger head on.

"I'm sorry Miss, this is a crime scene and you can't-"

"Oh, but I can." She reached into her right pocket and withdrew a badge. "Sorry. Just got it, and I'm still not used to wearing it." As she clipped it onto her belt, he noticed for the first time that she was carrying a silver case – just like Danny and Mac had been carrying earlier.

"You're the new CSI?" he questioned curiously. There had been rumors around the precinct over who was going to replace Aiden, but he had never expected it to be someone so . . . young? Scratch that. He knew from years of experience that looks could be deceiving – he also knew that it was probably a safe bet to assume that even though she was a cutie, she knew how to hold her own.

"Lindsay Monroe," she stated calmly, extending her hand out towards him. "I mean, it's _Detective_ Lindsay Monroe now, I guess," she added with a small smile. It was a nice smile.

Grasping her hand in his (and ignoring the way they fit perfectly together and the shock that traveled up his arm from the sudden warmth), he told her, "Detective Donald Flack. Welcome to the family."

Recognition floated across her (perfect) face. "I've heard that name before. At least, I think I have."

He sighed. "That'd probably be my old man, Don Flack _Sr_. I'm Don Flack with a Jr."

She shook her head, her short brown hair bobbing around her face. "No . . . I think it was you in that article I read. 'Life As an NYPD Detective' or something."

Laughing, he let himself smile at his friend's replacement. "That article? My boss made me do that. Said I fit the bill perfectly." As if suddenly realizing something, he glanced around in confusion. "Are you supposed to be workin' the scene?"

"Oh, yeah." She picked up her case again. "I actually came over her to ask if you could point me in Detective Taylor's general direction." She really did have a nice smile.

"He's over there in the tiger cage." He pointed towards the center of where a crowd had gathered and watched her turn to walk away.

"See you around, Detective," she said cheerfully and pushed her way through to the crime scene tape.

After a moment of watching the place where she had disappeared, he shook his head to clear his thoughts. He wasn't sure how working with the new CSI would be, but there would be time for that thought later; right now, he had to go search through his car for some tissues.

* * *

The day was finally over, the case solved, and their suspect resting comfortably behind bars. The headache from such an odd case was gone but the allergies had not.

Tiger hair clung to his suit in places he didn't even know existed. It coated evidence brought in for further analysis and aggravated his sinuses when he came into the lab for updates. He was sneezing wildly by the time he entered the bullpen of his precinct.

"Hey, Flack!" a nearby officer called out.

"What?"

"Some cutie broad left some stuff for you 'bout ten minutes ago." What?

"Who was it?"

"Dunno. But you're a lucky man, if ya know what I'm sayin'". He _didn't_ know what he was saying. "S'on your desk."

"Thanks." He walked over to his desk to find a brown paper bag sitting on top of his files. The end was folded over and rolled slightly and, as he plopped down in his seat, he casually shot his arm out and dragged it over. He reached in and pulled out a note hastily written on a piece from his personal pad of paper.

_For Don Flack with a Jr. –_

_Noticed you were having a problem at the scene this morning. Hope this helps._

_LM_

Reaching into the bag again, he pulled out a box of Claritin, a box of Benadryl, a bottle of water, and three packs of tissues.

He had to grin. Maybe working with the new CSI wouldn't be as hard as he thought.

_FIN_

_

* * *

As always, reviews are appreciated. Remember, it keeps the fics flowing and there are 97 left to go . . ._


	4. 29: Birth

(29): Birth

Lindsay bent over the toilet as she (yet again) emptied the contents of her stomach into the waiting bowl. The taste of the previous night's pizza entered her mouth again, only this time it wasn't as appetizing. She reluctantly flushed the bile away, knowing that more might come up any minute.

"Angel?" Flack called from the other side of the door. She lifted her head up to hear him better. "Either you need to hurry it up in there or I need to shower with you. You know I'd prefer the latter but-"

"Hold on a second," she called out, standing up and shedding her clothes before reaching for the mouthwash. She had turned the shower on earlier to cover up the sound of her retching and now she jumped under the spray to quickly wet her hair and rinse her mouth before jumping back out to unlock the door. She turned around to re-enter the shower when the door opened and she felt two very familiar hands grab hold of her waist to pull her back.

"You smell good," he whispered in a low voice as he nuzzled her neck from behind. The back of her mind registered that he had already undressed in anticipation of her answer.

She let out a short laugh. "I haven't even washed my hair yet." _And I smell like a bad hangover . . ._

"So?" he asked, continuing his ministrations as he walked them into the small cubicle. "You always smell good to me."

She spun around in his arms, gripping his waist for support against the slippery floor. "Babe, we can't – we're going to be late."

He shrugged and grinned. "I'm feeling a little fluey. Might have to sleep in a bit."

"And me?"

"Every sick cop needs his nurse."

Her laughter echoed in the steamy shower.

* * *

They didn't end up being late (thanks to the fact that they usually arrived early and some very clever driving on Flack's part), but that didn't stop Stella from interrogating her as soon as she entered the break room.

"Have fun this morning?" she teased, a bright smile on her cheerful face. Lindsay took one look at her and burst out laughing. Her best friend was practically glowing.

"Somebody got laid last night," she sing-songed as she sat down at the table.

"Yeah, well _somebody else_ got laid this morning . . ."

"Yeah, yeah." She shrugged it off only to catch a grin creeping onto her face a few seconds later. "So, you were going to tell me who it is?" she asked hopefully. Stella shook her head, her curls bouncing in the morning light. She made a face and mock-whined, "You know who I slept with."

"Well, that's kind of obvious, Linds. Unless there's something you need to tell your husband-"

"No! That's . . . that's . . . "

"I'm only kidding." The older woman leaned forward and pushed a cup of coffee towards her as Danny walked in.

"No thanks," Lindsay politely told her, pushing the blue mug back across the table.

"Montana refusing coffee?" Danny exclaimed playfully. He placed a hand on her forehead and asked, "Are you sick?"

She reached up and shoved him off. "I'm just . . . feeling a bit under the weather. Don't want to take any chances."

"And Flack didn't keep you at home?"

"He doesn't know." Standing up, she placed the cup of coffee in his hands and walked over to the fridge. As she grabbed a bottle of water, she added, "He can be a bit of a mother hen sometimes. I don't want him to worry."

Stella was about to reply when one of the interns walked in. "I'm looking for Detective Flack," he said hesitantly.

Lindsay raised a hand. "That'd be me." He wordlessly handed her an envelope and hurried out. She laughed at him, but one look at the letter and her smile fell away.

"Stel? Can you tell Mac I'm not feeling too well?" Her friend nodded but she was already out the door and down the hall towards the locker room.

* * *

"Lindsay?"

Flack's voice echoed in the dim locker room. It bounced off cool metal and came back to hit him in the face.

"Angel?" For some reason the familiar nickname seemed foreign on his tongue (probably due to the pit of worry gnawing at his stomach), but he didn't have time to contemplate it. His wife's soft sobs traveled from around the corner and he followed them to find her sitting on the floor, clutching a letter in her hands.

He rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders, lightly shaking them. "Lindsay! What's wrong, baby? Talk to me, please . . ."

Lindsay glanced up with teary eyes. Wiping them, she asked quietly, "What are you doing here?"

He moved and sat next to her, placing an arm around her shoulders. "Danny called me. So, you care to tell me what has you feeling sick and running into the locker room for an early morning mood swing?" She smacked his arm. "Hey!" he protested. "I'm just doing my mother hen thing."

Laughter filled the air followed by a hiccup. "I can't believe he told you that . . ."

Flack shrugged. "Eh – I've got magical persuasion powers. How do you think I got you to marry me?"

"I thought that was your magical powers in bed."

"Okay, now that we're done inflating my ego, will you please tell me what's wrong?"

She took a deep breath and, after a moment, mutely handed him the letter. He skimmed it over then stopped halfway down the page, his eyes widening.

"I, uh . . . I went to the doctor two weeks ago for my physical. I asked them to mail me the results of the my blood test because I knew I wouldn't be able to go back in-"

"You're pregnant?"

"-and they just came this morning and I-"

"Lindsay." He shot his hand out and covered her mouth; not taking his eyes off the little box that read _Pregnancy Test: Positive_. Turning to her, a grin spread slowly across his face. "You're pregnant."

"So it says," she murmured, her head down.

"You're upset about this?" he asked incredulously.

"You told me you didn't want kids."

"Honey, that was two years ago! Before I fell in love with you and way before I ever decided that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you."

Brown eyes met blue as she turned to face him head-on. "You mean that? I mean . . . you really want to have kids?"

She didn't think it was possible but his grin grew even wider. "Only with you, Linds. Only with you." He pulled her into a tight hug. "And only if you promise not to get one of those mom haircuts."

A giggle escaped from her lips as he held her for a few minutes until . . .

"Don?"

"Hmm?"

"You need to let go now."

"We're having a baby, Linds."

"I know. That's why if you don't let me go I'm going to throw up all over you."

_Fin_


	5. 90: Home

(90): "Home"

"Daddy, daddy!"

A ball of wavy black hair attached itself to his leg as soon as he opened the apartment door. He closed it behind him and called out, "Linds?"

Lindsay walked out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dishtowel, closely followed by a five-year old Donna in her pink pajamas. Walking over to them with a smile and placing a kiss on his waiting lips, she leaned back and looked pointedly at his newest foot ornament.

Flack sighed over-dramatically and slowly moved towards the couch in the living room. As he sat down, he said, "Angel, I think I have a weird growth on my leg."

"Really?" she played along, resting lightly on the armrest as Donna clambered into her arms. "Can you get it off?"

"Yeah, but I think I'm gonna hafta burn it of-"

"No!"

Toni leaped back in fear, barely missing the coffee table in her escape. Flack instantly reached out and grabbed hold of her, pulling her onto his lap.

"Actually," he began, a playful gleam in his blue eyes. "I think I'm just going to have to tickle it." He proceeded to do just that as she squealed in protest.

"No! Daddy! I can't breathe!" Yet she was giggling as he continued.

Lindsay smiled as she watched father and daughter play. She always enjoyed watching her husband interact with their kids. It was then that she noticed the two five-year old boys who had wandered out into the living room – one of them completely covered in something red.

"Timothy Taylor! What on earth are you covered in?"

Flack looked up at the sound of her semi-angry tone and Donna started giggling. "Look at Timmy, Mommy. He looks like Elmo."

Tim started to cry and Lindsay's voice immediately softened. Walking over to him and carefully examining her two sons, she asked, "What happened sweetie? How come you're all red?" She pulled her hand away and looked at it. "And sticky?"

He sniffed. "My tummy hurt . . . and I w-wan'ed some juice . . . and Johnny was hewlping, an' then it fewl on me. Mommy, I don' wanna look like E'mmo." More tears fell down his face as his sisters laughed harder.

"It's not 'E'mmo' you big dum-" Toni was cut off as her father's hand clamped down over her mouth.

"Don't make fun of your brother," he warned. She nodded, her hazel eyes still dancing with laughter.

Lindsay looked over at Flack. "I'm going to give him a bath. Can you watch the other three?" Nodding, he watched mother and son walk down the hall and enter the bathroom. He gestured to his other son to come join them on the couch as he reached for the remote.

"So – who wants to watch _Aladdin_?"

* * *

When she and Tim walked out of the bathroom, Lindsay found a sight that she had to smile at.

Toni was sitting on the floor in front of the TV – with Johnny and Donna on either side – watching some innocuous Disney movie. Tim rushed over and plopped down next to his brother, clearly enthralled by the animated characters on the screen in front of him. She, however, made her way over to the couch – and her sleeping husband.

"Ducky," she whispered, gently nudging his arm as she situated herself beside him.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" he whispered back sleepily.

"Because it bugs you." His eyes opened slowly and his head turned to face her.

"You're going to give the kids ideas."

"I'm surprised they don't call you Aladdin. They've watched this movie how many times?" One of her hands reached up and ran through his shaggy hair. "Your hair looks the same as his."

He grabbed her hand and brought it down to his chest. "Alright, Miss Subtle. I'll get a haircut." He leaned down to kiss her until there was a chorus of "Ewww"s from the group on the floor.

She smiled and kissed him anyways.

_Fin_


	6. 71: Broken

_Comes before "Colorless", "Too much", "Not enough", and "Fixed."_

#71: "Broken"

* * *

As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. Her sharp intake of breath could barely be heard as she dropped her head, but he knew that he had gone too far.

"Shit. Linds, I'm-"

"Get out."

"What?"

She slowly lifted her head. He could clearly see tears forming in her eyes, but her voice as she repeated her words remained steady and slightly cold.

"Get out of my apartment, Flack."

The use of his surname hit him square in the chest. Feeling like a brick had just been thrown at him, he grabbed his coat and left without another word.

TBC


	7. 20: Colorless

_Comes after "Fixed", but before "Colorless", "Too much", "Not Enough", and "Fixed."_

#20: "Colorless"

* * *

"Danny! C'mon, open up!"

The knocking on the door had woken him up, but the urgency and pain in his friend's voice was what had him rushing to let him in.

As he stood watching the younger detective make his way to the couch, he wondered why he was here. But when he voiced that question, all he got was drunken muttering.

"I screwed up, Dan. I've ruined it all."

"Don," he drawled warily. "What did you do?"

"She doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve her."

It was then that the phone rang, preventing him from throttling the wasted man to find out what he did to his partner.

"Hello?"

"Danny?"

"Hey Montana."

TBC


	8. 33: Too Much

_Comes after "Broken" and "Colorless" but before "Not Enough" and "Fixed."_

#33: "Too Much"

* * *

"No, Danny. I don't want to come over. I don't want to speak with him."

"Lindsay, please."

The use of her given name caught her by surprise, but she was still hesitant. "Give me one reason why I should."

"He's drunk, Linds. I'm afraid he's gonna hurt himself."

For the second time that night, her breath caught in her throat.

He had just gotten out of the hospital two weeks beforehand, and he was still on heavy pain medication. He knew better than to mix them with alcohol. She let out a shaky sigh.

"I'll be right over."

"Good. Then maybe you can tell me what he's mutterin' on about, huh?"

TBC


	9. 34: Not Enough

_Comes after "Broken", "Colorless", and "Too Much" but before "Fixed."_

#34: "Not Enough"

* * *

_"I'm sick of being cooped up in her, Linds!" _

"_Do you want to go for a walk?"_

"_No, I don't want to go for a walk. I want to go back to work! I want to be there to protect you when the fuckin' first officer doesn't fuckin' clear the scene properly!"_

"_I don't need you to protect me."_

"_Apparently you do."_

"_It wasn't my fault!"_

"_You wandered into the basement by yourself! Aiden woulda never . . ."_

"_Aiden would never have what? Been so stupid?"_

"_She should've never gotten fired. Then maybe we wouldn't be in this situation."_

"_Damnit, Don. What is your problem? Because, frankly, I'm not sure what I did."_

"_You're not Aiden."_

TBC


	10. 72: Fixed

_Comes after "Broken", "Colorless", "Too Much", and "Not Enough."_

#72: "Fixed"

* * *

She loved him. She really did, no matter what he said or did.

Which was why she was sitting on her partner's coffee table at midnight, leaning over her sleeping boyfriend on the couch and trying to wake him up.

"Don." She nudged his arm and he slowly opened the eyes that she loved so much.

"Angel?"

"Yeah, it's me. Why did you get drunk? You know you can't do that on your medication."

He sat up straight, looking her square in the eye. "I'm sorry, Linds. I really am. I don't deserve you. I really don't." To her surprise, tears were forming in his eyes and she hugged him close, rubbing his back in soothing patterns.

"I miss her, Lindsay," he whispered, clinging to her desperately. "I really miss her."

"I know."

"I don't want to miss you . . ."

"I know."

FIN


	11. 79: When?

Lindsay let out a frustrated sigh as she began to search her closet – again. When she still didn't find what she was looking for, she reached for the phone and dialed the familiar number.

"_Flack."_

"Do you always answer your phone like you're at work?"

_"Only when my caller ID is broken. Wouldn't want to greet Mac with something like 'Still achin for more, baby?', now would I."_

"That's your come-on?"

"_Maybe. Why?"_

"You're lucky you're hot, Ducky."

_"Damn straight."_

"You see, that's what I love about you."

"_What's that?"_

"Your modesty."

"_Haha. You're cute, angel. Real cute. So . . . what did you need from my hotness?"_

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have my blue dress over there? I wanted to wear it tonight and I can't find it."

_"Yeah, I think I saw . . . here it is! Right where you left it the last time you wore it."_

"Sweetie . . . that was a month ago."

"_So?"_

"Do you ever clean your bedroom?"

_"Not really."_

"Does it smell?"

"_My room?"_

"The dress!"

"_You want me to smell your dress?"_

"Could you?"

"_Well, what would I get out of this little nose job?"_

"Having that dress on your floor again toni—"

_"It smells great. Just like you."_

She let out a laugh, grinning widely at his eagerness. "Could you come by early and bring it with you?"

_"I'll be there in forty minutes."_

"Alright, I'm going to take a shower in twenty minutes so if you get here and I'm—"

_"You know what? I think I can actually make it there in twenty minutes."_

"You're such a whore."

"_Maybe so, but I'm one hundred percent _your_ whore. Even if Danny did offer . . .-"_

"Okay, this conversation ends here. See you soon."

_"Bye angel."_

* * *

Later that night, Danny sat in a corner of the large ballroom the NYPD winter benefit was being held in. He watched Lindsay dance with each of the M.E.s in turn. At the moment, she was giggling at something Zao had whispered in her ear.

Beside him, Flack sat watching her as well. He eyed his friend's beer bottle enviously; he was still on his last bit of medication and was not yet allowed to drink alcohol.

"From what you've told me, Flack," he was saying. "You guys practically live together already." Danny was still the only one – except for their parents – who knew what was going on between his two best friends.

"I know, it's just . . ."

"Just what? Too scared?"

"If you're not careful, I may spill my non-alcoholic drink all over you." The song ended, and Marty walked over to Lindsay to claim his dance.

Danny looked over at Flack. "Why is she dancing with all the docs?"

He shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "I think she lost a bet to Stella."

The older man nodded. "I think you should just ask her," he said as soon as the song was over.

"Ask who what?" Stella interrupted as she sat down across from them.

"Ask Lindsay to dance, but I think I'm going to do it instead." With that said, he was standing up and moving swiftly over to his partner before Hammerback could ask for round two.

Stella looked over at Flack, noting that a smile had crossed his face as he watched the pair dancing. "You know, she's got a boyfriend," she told him. Her speech was not yet slurred, but it was getting there.

His head spun towards her in surprise; he wasn't aware that anyone else knew anything about them. "What?"

"Yeah, she's been going out with this secret guy for about six months now." The word secret was accented by very uncoordinated air quotes.

"Is that so?" Because it was more like eight months . . .

"Yep. But you know what I think?"

"What?" An inebriated Stella was an amusing Stella, so he humored her a bit.

She leaned towards him to whisper. "I think it's Danny." Leaning back, she had a smug look on her face that he just had to laugh at.

"I think you're drunk, Stel."

"Maybe I am, . . ." she murmured as her head came to rest on her arms. "But you're drunk with her."

Flack didn't even know if that made any sense, but it gave him an idea that did. At least, to him, anyways.

It was two weeks until Christmas Eve. That night, Mac had invited everyone over for dinner, and it was then that Don Flack with a Jr. decided he was going to put his plan into action. But first, he needed to enlist some help.

* * *

"Mac, you got a sec?" The ex-marine slowed on his way to his office to allow the younger detective to catch up.

"Sure Don. What do you need?"

His head lowered, almost as if he was embarrassed, and his voice was quiet when he answered. "I need to tell you something. And then I need your help."

"Alright." They reached his office and they both took a seat, Mac behind the desk and Flack in front of it. "Tell me before another case comes in."

Taking a deep breath, he let it out quickly. "Lindsay and I have been dating for about eight months now."

Mac's face maintained the passive expression he had held a moment before. "I figured as much," he finally said with a smile. "You two were keeping it appropriate at work, so I didn't say anything."

Flack smiled as well, letting out a sigh of relief. "Well, that will make the next part easier."

* * *

The next day, the cobalt-eyed detective waited until Lindsay had left the lab to follow up on a lead before entering the break room.

"Adam!" he called out to the lab tech as he strode through the doorway. The man in question nearly dropped his coffee as he was startled by Flack's voice.

"Geez, Flack," he said. "Don't do that!"

"Sorry."

"It's alright. What do you need?"

"Are you good with a camera?"

* * *

_"Hello?"_

"Mrs. Monroe?"

_"Oh, Donnie dear. I told you to call me Beth."_

"Sorry. I, uh. . . I need your help with something."

_"For you dear? Anything."

* * *

_

"How about this one?" Marie Flack held one up for Flack to see.

"That one's too big, Ma. She's a very simple girl."

From his other side, his father spoke up. "How about this one? It's kind of small . . ."

"And it's yellow," Marie replied, making a face.

"So?"

"Donald, he can't give her a yellow one. It's just not right."

Flack sighed as his parents argued. "Oh, boy . . ."

* * *

By the time he arrived at Mac's place Christmas Eve and found Lindsay chatting up Stella, he was ready. Nervous as hell and feeling like he was going to almost wet himself, but ready. He just had to wait.

"That was great," Lindsay told Mac as she helped clear the table. Flack watched her enter the kitchen then glanced anxiously at the clock. Adam and Danny both had their eyes on him, knowing smirks playing at their lips.

Danny opened his mouth to say something when the doorbell rang. "I'll get it!" Flack quickly called out and all but jumped out of his seat. Opening the door, he let out the breath he had been holding at the sight of the group of people he had been waiting for.

"Linds!" he yelled as he let them in and shut the door. "There's some people here to see ya!" There was no shortage of confused faces at the dinner table as the rest of the "family" looked on with interest.

Lindsay walked out into the room with a dishtowel in her hands. "What do you mean there are some peop- . . . Mom? Dad?" Mr. and Mrs. Monroe stepped forward and gave their daughter a hug while Mr. and Mrs. Flack stood back with their son. "What are you guys doing here?"

"Donnie invited us," her father supplied the answer. As she glanced at the man in question, Mr. Monroe wordlessly handed her the videotape that Flack had handed him at the airport early that morning, gesturing towards the TV. She walked over and slid the tape into the VCR as everyone stood up from the table and followed her.

* * *

The screen was blue for a moment before Flack's face filled the screen and his voice filled the room. Lindsay looked over at him with a questioning gaze, but he pointed silently at the TV, indicating that she should just watch.

_"Lindsay, baby, I'm sure you're wondering just what this is about. I'm sure you're searching your pretty head to figure out why both of our parents are here in Mac's apartment. The CSI in you is probably dying to know, so I'll just get right down to it."_

No one noticed Flack grab his coat and slip out the door.

_"I guess you can say that I made this tape because I knew I wouldn't be able to get the words right with you standing next to me."_

Danny let out a barely-contained snort and Marty punched his arm.

_"Some people say that they knew they loved someone from the moment they saw them. I can't say that with you, because for me it was when I found the bag of allergy medication on my desk. I just didn't know it then."_

Every woman in the room had tears in their eyes.

_"You were there for me when Aiden passed and after the bombing. You stuck by me even when I got angry and said some things I shouldn't have. I love having conversations with you about smelling dresses and come-on lines. I realized that I wanted you to move in with me just so we could have them without the phone between us. But that wasn't enough."_

By now, Lindsay was crying and laughing all at the same time.

"_Somethin' Stella said a couple of weeks ago made me realize somethin' else. She said that I was drunk with you, an' she was right. I'm drunk with you and I never want to be sober._

_"I want to be with you forever, no matter what. I want to be there for you. I want to wake up next to you and know that you're all mine. I want to be all yours._

_"I want you to be my wife."_

She let out a quiet gasp.

_"God, Lindsay, I love you so much. More than I could ever put in words. So if you want the same things as me, angel, come downstairs so I can do this properly and give ya your ring."_

With a final smile, the screen turned blue again and the room was silent. All eyes were on Lindsay who took a deep breath and ran out the door without a coat on.

* * *

Downstairs, Flack stood off to the side of the pathway, shuffling his feet to stay warm. He felt like he was going to be sick. _What if she said no? What if she decided it was too soon?_ Hell, they had only been dating for eight months, one and a half of which he was in the hospital.

_What if—_

The door to the building creaked open and his breath caught in his throat as he turned around. _Please let it be her, please let it be her . . ._

His heart nearly stopped at the sight of his angel in the doorway. He barely had the time to register what her standing there meant before she was running towards him.

"Whoa!" he started to say, but in seconds he was on his back in the snow and her lips were on his. They only pulled apart when the need to breathe outweighed the need for each other. Looking in her eyes, he whispered two simple words that she had longed to hear from him for a while. "Marry me."

"When?" she breathed out.

He just laughed and wrapped his coat around her as he moved in for another kiss.

* * *

Stella turned away from the window in Mac's apartment and looked around the room. "Alright," she said, her hands on her hips and a smile on her face. "When?"

FIN


	12. 2: Middles

_This one's dedicated to Emily, just cuz she's so sweet. :D_

* * *

# 2: "Middles"

He was flirting again.

It didn't really bother her, though. It was actually kind of amusing to watch the group of trainees gush and giggle over his every word as he flashed some of his scars. And besides – he would more than make up for it later.

She went back to the camera as he started to walk towards her with Stella, telling the older woman about his recovery – something the younger woman took a secret joy in knowing more about it than anyone else.

_"So Flack,"_ she began with a teasing grin. It was always Flack and Monroe at work; Donnie and Angel were for them, at home._ "How many phone numbers did you get?"_

Her tone was light and playful, perhaps suggesting more. Yet Stella, astute as she was, didn't seem to notice.

_"I don't think I like where you're going with this, Monroe."_ He knew that he liked it, the little game they played.

_"Oh really?"_ She couldn't wait till later on. She'd make him whisper, say, scream her given name – all at once. _"How many?"_ Daring. Challenging. Accusing? Maybe.

_"Three."_ Somehow, she had known his answer before he said it. Their own private codeword, if you will. Something they could say in a room of other people, something they could show on their hands that let the other know that they were there for them. Combine it with the right look on either of their faces and it was an invitation for a party in the supply cupboard waiting to be accepted.

She knew that's what he meant, because she knew that he knew if he actually had gotten three of their phone numbers, it would be a lonely night.

And that smirk – heaven knew the day when she would finally break and just kiss it off of his face. Yet she had to smile as well as he held eye contact with her for a moment until Stella brought their little world back into focus.

_Everybody loves a hero . . ._

Oh did she ever. But there was a case to solve and, just like always, love would have to wait a little longer.

_FIN_


	13. 61 Winter

_**December 1988**_

A twelve-year-old Lindsay made a face as Ricky Tulton tried to make a move for her underneath the large mistletoe. She had spent twenty minutes getting her lips perfectly sparkly for the holiday play and she would rather knee him in the stomach than ruin her special "winter look" by kissing him.

So she kneed him, running off to find her friends.

* * *

At ten years, Donald Flack Jr. was already adept at avoiding the cheek kisses of his aunts and grandmother that would have him scrubbing his face for hours after everyone had left. It wasn't as if they would miss him – that was one perk of having so many sisters and cousins. So far, this holiday party wasn't turning out so bad. 

Until he caught his mother kissing Santa Clause under the mistletoe in the shadows of their hallway.

* * *

_**December 1993**_

"Lindsay!" Ricky called out. She paid him no heed; all she could think about was getting away from there, and fast.

"Lindsay, I didn't mean to embarrass you!" She ran faster.

When she got home, the door was slammed behind her. Breathing in deeply, Lindsay let the soft scents of gingerbread and chocolate waft over her with their calming effects. She grinned to herself, her hand coming up to touch her red lips.

* * *

"Donnie!" Don groaned at the sound of his mother's voice. He switched off the television and reluctantly headed for the kitchen. Handing him a plate of cookies shaped like Christmas trees, she put his coat on and pushed him towards the door. "I need you to take these down to the Kinsleys." 

"Ma," he protested. "I'm fifteen years old. Don't ya think there might be other things I could be doin on my Christmas break?" One look silenced him and sent him out into the snow.

Three blocks later, he arrived at the front door of the Kinsleys and knocked loudly. Mary Kinsley opened the door slowly.

"Hi."

"Hi."

Her brother John came running up behind her. "Ha! You're under the mistletoe with Donnie Flack!"

* * *

_**December 1996**_

She was eyeing the champagne and red wine her older brothers and parents were drinking when he walked up to her. "Not quite twenty-one yet, Linds."

"I know."

"I could sneak you a beer."

"I don't like the beer we have."

"You've had some?"

"Yes."

Ricky spun her around to face him. "Lindsay – are you really transferring to Bozeman?" She nodded, burying her face in his chest as she pulled him closer. He looked up and started to laugh. "Oh, our old friend – Mr. Mistle for a Toe."

* * *

Don was eyeing Mary Kinsley, planning out just how he was going to get her underneath the mistletoe. 

"It'll never work," John whispered as he came to stand next to his friend. "My sister hates you."

"You like me well enough."

"That's cuz I like your computer."

"Funny."

* * *

_**December 1999**_

Lindsay pulled away from her partner with a sigh, her phone ringing on the hall table. He moved to follow her but she firmly placed a hand on his arm, signaling him to stay underneath the festive green plant hanging in her doorway.

"Monroe," she answered.

"Is this Lindsay Monroe?"

"Yes. Who is this?"

"This is Harriet Winnows. I'm a nurse at Lorde's Hospital here in –"

"I'm sorry – what did you just say?"

"Well, we have a patient named Richard Tulton here who has you listed as his emergency contact. He was in an accident and I'm sorry to have to tell you this, but it looks like he won't make it. Are you able t—"

The phone hit the floor the same time her head did.

* * *

Only three years into the whole process of becoming a police officer and he was progressing rapidly. And it wasn't just in his classes and other assignments; his social life was improving as well. 

It was the fifth time that night that he had been "found" under a piece of mistletoe with a very good looking college girl, and he had to say that he was enjoying himself.

"Johnny, my man," he called out across the table. "We gotta do this more often."

"Christmas only comes once a year, Donnie."

"I know that. I meant we should kiss girls more often."

"You're drunk, dude."

"Don't I know it."

For some reason, his hand shook for a few seconds, causing him to drop his beer bottle. He watched it shatter as it hit the floor, and an inexplicable feeling of pain momentarily spread over his heart. But a minute later it was gone and he shrugged it off as having had too much to drink that night.

* * *

_**December 2004**_

"So, let me get this straight. You want me to apply for a job somewhere else?"

"Yes. I can't have you working here anymore, Detective Monroe. You've become a problem on almost every case you've worked in the past year. I know your friend's death was hard on you, but you—"

"Fine. I'll start looking."

"This is only for your own good, Monroe."

"Uh-huh." She finds it sad that the mistletoe fell underfoot as she slammed his office door, getting crushed by her sensible black shoes that she suddenly felt like shoving somewhere they didn't really belong.

* * *

_**December 2005**_

Flack had to hold back a laugh at the sight of Danny hovering near the doorway of the bar. It was quite obvious that he knew what was above the aforementioned spot, and it was also quite obvious who he was waiting to casually "bump into" as they left the after work hangout.

Lindsay could see it as well, and she pushed him through before following him into the cold New York air. Flack let out a small smile at how the team's newest member had deftly avoided what Stella and Aiden had dreaded every year.

* * *

_**December 2006**_

They were engaged. Engaged, planning on getting married, the whole enchilada. And he had done it so . . . perfectly. The video, her parents, _oh man_. She was so far in love she couldn't see straight anymore.

It's a good thing he had the same problem.

Now where did he hang up that mistletoe . . .

* * *

_**December 2009**_

"Look, Angel."

"What?"

"Mistletoe."

"Donnie, this is your parent's house. We just rang the doorbell and they're going to answer the door any minute, and I'm holding your baby daughter."

"It's just one quick kiss."

"Alright . . ."

* * *

_**December 2012**_

"Their first Christmas," you whisper to her as the three newest members of your family stare wide-eyed at the presents Toni is opening for them. She looks up at you with a smile and replies simply, "I know." And suddenly you can't wait to give _her_ present underneath the mistletoe.

* * *

_**December 2014**_

Gazing out at their children, Mr. and Mrs. Flack seem very content. I guess I could say that because I know a thing or two about being content. I've been content for the past thirteen years, watching my 'family' from up above.

Heaven wasn't all it was cracked up to be at first. I didn't fit in anywhere, no one seemed to want to be friends with me – all of which was strange for two reasons: I was well-liked on earth and heaven was supposed to be, well . . . heaven.

But once I learned to accept where I was, then things got better. I learned how to look in on people's lives, and was very surprised to find that Flack had settled down – with the girl Danny had told me _he_ was goin after. Strange world.

Though probably not quite as strange as when Danny's brother Louie tried to get me under the mistletoe his first Christmas up here.

* * *

_**January 2019**_

"Who the hell left this up for so long?"

"I don't know. But let's make the most of it, shall we?"

* * *

_**December 2027**_

"Aww . . . why does she get to go out tonight?" Donna was whining and it was hurting her head.

"Donna, I've told you before. Your sister is eighteen. You and your brothers are only sixteen." Lindsay pulled a pan out of the oven as Flack walked into the kitchen.

"Come on! If I'm old enough to be kissed under the mistletoe, I'm old enough to go out with my friends late at night."

The apple Flack had just picked up fell to the ground.

Later that night, after everyone else was asleep, he went around and took down all the mistletoe around the house.

* * *

_**December 2030**_

"I'm never going caroling again."

"Donnie, you weren't exactly caroling at that house."

"There was mistletoe! I was just following tradition . . ."

"So next time you'll remember to duck when they start throwing snowballs at us."

"Yeah, yeah. Now where have those god-damn kids of ours gotten off to. They'd better not be finding some mistletoe of their own."

* * *

_**December 2034**_

"So when are the rest of you going to get married?" Flack asked his triplets at the dinner table.

"Dad!" Donna cried out. "How many times do we have to tell ya – when we're ready, you'll know."

"Alright, alright." He held up his hands in mock defeat. A minute later, "I could just shove you under the mistletoe with somebody."

"Dad!"

* * *

_**December 2039**_

"Mom," Tim called out as he opened the front door. "Can we talk to you?" Johnny followed close behind.

"What is it, sweeties?" Lindsay reached up and kissed each one on the cheek.

"Aww . . . mom, what was that for?" She just pointed up and grinned.

"Be glad your father's not here."

"Actually, that's good right at the moment," Johnny replied. "Come sit down. We've got some good news for ya." The trio moved into the living room and they placed themselves around the coffee table.

"We're getting married," Tim blurted out, unable to contain himself much longer.

Lindsay looked confused. "Who? Both of you?" They nodded. "A double wedding?" Again, they nodded. A large smile crossed her face and she jumped up and hugged them both.

* * *

_**December 2040**_

"I always knew my Donna would want a holiday wedding," Flack whispered to his wife as they watched the last of their children head off for her honeymoon.

Lindsay turned to face him with a quizzical look. "How could you have known that?"

"I'm old and wise." She smacked his arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

She smirked up at him. "You're not old, because that makes me old."

Returning the smirk, he leaned forward and said so only she could hear, "Alrighty then. How about we go and find ourselves some mistletoe and prove to each other just how old we're not?"

* * *

_**December 2043**_

'I'm sixty-five,' you tell yourself, except you don't say it out loud because the woman you love – the woman sitting at the kitchen table making her yearly holiday shopping list as she sips her favorite mint tea underneath a sprig of mistletoe that Tim had insisted on hanging up the previous week – would just scoff at you and remind you that she is sixty-seven.

It throws you for a loop that she's stuck around for this long.

* * *

_**December 2058**_

You open the door to find your eldest granddaughter kissing her boyfriend under the mistletoe and you laugh at a long forgotten memory of you doing the same thing with your husband at his mother's house.

"Sorry Grams," Rhiannon says as she hugs you and they pass to get to her grandfather. And you're left staring at the small plant that has caused you so much joy and pain over the years.


End file.
